


boys of summer

by rachherself



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Surfers, F/F, Genderbending, Recreational Drug Use, SURF AU, Surfing, but some people make an appearance?, i'm bad at long involved fics oop, it's mostly centred on E/R, lady amis, sex under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachherself/pseuds/rachherself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras needs a new board. Grantaire makes them. They come together over the sound of the crashing waves and the feeling of sand between their toes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	boys of summer

**Author's Note:**

> so SOMEone i know on tumblr got me started on lady!amis surfer au and, well. this happened. i'm sorry.
> 
> Heavily inspired by an old, old, old Star Trek surf au fic by livejournal user atomicskull called _Step Into Liquid_ , the same name as a classic surf movie that everyone should watch (that and The Endless Summer, which is not as cliché as it sounds and is in all honesty the definitive surf movie). Enjolras is in no way Gidget.

They've been watching the clouds gathering on the horizon for the past few days - at first they were scattered, far away, leaving the few miles out from the beach clear and sunny. Then they grew, gathering darkness and depth until a storm battered the seaside, driving everyone inside and bending the palm trees almost in half.

But then the sun had come out, the streets and sand still wet and damp, but picking their way amongst the clumps of seaweed that had washed ashore were the surfers, eager to catch the high waves left over from the ocean's overturning the night before.

Two surfers stood out - one with a crown of golden hair and a red-white-and-blue gun tucked under her arm, and the other with a tangle of loose black curls, a bright yellow fish lying at her side as she adjusted her wetsuit and tied her hair up. The two clasped hands, smiling at each other, before running giddily into the surf, their boards under them like extensions of themselves.

—

_One Month Earlier_

—

Enjolras skated down the street, hair flying behind her as she pushed against the ground, colourful houses seeming to fly by. The piece of paper in her pocket that Combeferre had given her only had an address on it, no name, but it came with an assurance that here she'd find the best boards in town. Enjolras trusted Combeferre on this, because her friend had been through more shitty boards than either of them could count, and she constantly looked for quality and longevity. So, Enjolras listened, and she slowed down as she pulled the paper from her pocket and finally stopped.

The place was just called "Boards," and it looked like any old shop - perhaps a little more ragged, the paint peeling just a little more around the eaves of the shallow roof. The sign looked hand-painted, and it was a good job - gold leaf shimmered in the sun that was painted behind the words, and it was eye-catching and attractive. This, Enjolras thought, boded well.

She walked into the shop with her skateboard in hand, warily eyeing the boards lined up haphazardly along the walls in various states of completion. On some, the resin just had to be applied, and on others she could tell that the fiberglass hadn't even been sanded down yet. All, however appeared to be handmade.

She went up to the counter, catching the eye of the bored-looking girl with a strawberry blonde undercut that lounged behind it in a chair that looked suspiciously like the ones at the tiki bar on the other side of town.

"Excuse me - uh. I was told you guys sell the best boards around," she said. The girl at the counter looked up, startled, her green eyes wide.

"Oh, um. Yes! I mean, I don't want to say anything negative about all the other places, you know, but we _are_ the only ones who make all of our boards from scratch. R's a genius with them, she does all the paint jobs and everything. And nobody's ever come back to complain, like they usually do with those pop-out jobs you can buy for cheap." She was speaking earnestly, and Enjolras could tell that she surfed too. She smiled.

"Awesome. I've been having to make do with my goddamn funboard for the past three weeks, since my gun broke, and it's just not taking the waves as well as I want to be riding them."

The girl at the counter nodded. "We'll fix you right up then," she said, and then extended her hand. "I'm Jehan. I expect I'll be seeing you a bit - everyone's always so anxious about their boards that they stop by all the time. I can tell you'll be the same."

Enjolras blushed, feeling her cheeks heat. "Well, a surfer's nothing without her board, right? Anyway." She looked around the shop. "You said an… R makes these? They're gorgeous." They really were. Gold leaf seemed to be a theme with the boards, clearly an artist's signature.

"Yeah. I can take you back to talk with her, come on."

Jehan hopped off of her chair and put up a brightly coloured "ring bell for assistance" sign, and then led Enjolras back into the depths of the shop. She could hear a radio playing faintly in the background, some Mumford and Sons song that'd been circulating for a year, and then they walked through a beaded curtain and Enjolras had to catch her breath.

The woman standing over a half-painted board, looking critically at her work, was _gorgeous_. Her mouth was slightly lopsided, the top lip fuller than the bottom, and the freckles on her bare shoulders were sun-darkened and her hair was a wild black tangle foaming around her neck and down her back. Her long fingers were covered in paint and gold leaf, and her leaf green tank top was covered in smudged fingerprints and flecks of resin.

"R," Jehan said, "This girl - um, I'm sorry! I didn't catch your name!"

"Enjolras," Enjolras supplied, voice suddenly a bit hoarse.

"Right! Enjolras! Anyway, she said she needs a new gun for her quiver. I figure she'd better talk to you about it." She turned to Enjolras. "I only help with airbrushing and sanding, unfortunately. My artistry is more in the realm of the spoken word." Enjolras nodded. "I see," she managed, tearing her eyes away from R, who'd turned to look at her with luminous blue eyes that _shouldn't be that blue, goddamnit._

Jehan smiled. "Well. I'll leave you two it, then." Enjolras could virtually _taste_ the twinkle in her eye. Jehan walked away, the beaded curtain rattling closed behind her.

"So," R said in a husky voice. "You need a new gun?"

Enjolras swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. I'm a fan of the bigger, nastier waves, so I'm looking for something attractive as well as fairly indestructible."

R nodded sagely. "All right. Let's go get a drink."

"What?"

"A drink," R said, walking towards the back of the room and pulling her shirt off. Her bra was black and lacy, Enjolras noted through a sudden onslaught of lightheadedness that mysteriously disappeared when R pulled on a cleaner black V-neck that only had a few spots of paint around the hem.

"By the way, golden goddess, I'm Grantaire."

Enjolras really had no choice but to follow her out of the shop.

—

"So, Ferre sent you?" Grantaire was toying with the paper label around the neck of her beer bottle. They were at the bar close to Enjolras's house, sitting outside on the deck that overlooked the ocean. The sun had just begun to touch the horizon, and the sky was full of muted purples and shot through with gold.

"Yeah." Enjolras nodded, taking a swig of her own beer and chasing it with a french fry. "She said you guys were quality, and I won't surf with anything less than."

Grantaire pursed her lips together and flicked her hair over her shoulder. "I mean, I do the best I can with what I've got. It's up to you to tell me how quality it really is."

She pulled a lighter out of her pocket and lit the candle that was on the table, the coloured glass of its globe-shaped holder throwing specks of light onto Grantaire's face, making her look - well. Enjolras shook herself mentally for thinking that way. She was here about a new board, that was it.

"How long have you been doing this?"

Grantaire smiled wickedly. "Long enough." She leaned over the table. "It's in my blood, just like the waves are in yours. I can tell," she said, her husky voice made lower by the cigarettes she'd been smoking on the way to the bar and through their first beer.

Enjolras unconsciously leaned in. "I've got some weed back at my place," she said, not thinking about the words that were coming out of her mouth until after she'd said them. "You want? I'm right on the shore, we can watch the end of the sunset." _And maybe something else_ , she thought.

Grantaire's wicked smile grew wider. "You really are a goddess, aren't you?" Enjolras didn't even pretend to not blush as they slid off of their chairs, Enjolras dropping some bills on the table and then leaving, Grantaire walking close behind her.

—

Watching Grantaire roll a joint was, Enjolras thought, one of the hardest experiences of her life. Her fingers were long and slender and covered in splashes of differently-coloured paint, and Enjolras couldn't decide if she wanted to suck on them or have them on her skin. She decided to focus instead on the red glow that illuminated the hollows of Grantaire's cheekbones as she inhaled, and then the puff of smoke that escaped from her lips, heavy and sweet.

"Fuck me, that's good shit. Where do you get it?"

Enjolras shrugged, taking the joint neatly. "My friend Courfeyrac's got connections. Her brother grows somewhere up in NoCal, and she gives it to me for free or for cheap, depending on how broke she is." Enjolras put the joint in her mouth, studiously ignoring the fact that it was just between Grantaire's lips, and inhaling deeply, letting the smoke and the THC take her away. Grantaire's eyes never left her lips.

By the time the joint was basically a roach, the two of them had gotten more beers from Enjolras's fridge and were giggling about the idiots who tried to surf the big waves but couldn't. The sun had gone fully down, and somewhere along the line one of them - probably Enjolras - had produced candles from inside the house and they'd been arranged artistically - probably by Grantaire - around the small deck in the back of Enjolras's house.

"They - they bring out these massive Malibus, right, for these _tiny little waves_! I mean, take a damn _class_ or something, _fuck_!" Grantaire was laughing around the cigarette in her mouth, Enjolras laughing out clouds of heady smoke.

"I know, it's so annoying when they steal a wave from under your feet. Like, there's a _line_. There's _priority_. I can't - I cannot even." Enjolras knows she's fucked when she starts talking like she's on Tumblr.

Grantaire's eyes glimmer in the candlelight, her laughter making them brighter even in the darkness, the red tint from the weed making them bluer. Enjolras is _fucked_ on this girl she's met today, and right now she can't even bring herself to care.

"You're less… aloof when you're stoned, you know that?" Grantaire is leaning closer now, and Enjolras unconsciously responds in kind, angling her body towards Grantaire, trying to absorb everything about her into her skin. 

"Am I?" Enjolras flicks the roach into the bushes, watching it soar through the air as if in slow motion.

Grantaire nods, then slides off her chair and into Enjolras's lap, straddling her. Her thighs are warm from the sun. Enjolras doesn't know what to do with her hands.

"For example, I bet you wouldn't let me do this sober." Enjolras nods, swallowing heavily, heat sparking along her spine. Her hands go to Grantaire's waist, hesitantly, and she licks her lips. Grantaire's eyes, half-lidded, follow the motion.

"I'd really like to kiss you," Enjolras says, foggily aware that she sounds ridiculous. Grantaire chuckles low in her throat. "Do it, then," she says, edging closer to Enjolras, hips shifting.

Enjolras's hands go to Grantaire's hair, somewhat clumsily, and drag her forward so Enjolras can, _finally_ , seal her mouth over Grantaire's, swallowing her laugh. She's aware that she doesn't have much finesse due to the effects of the weed and beer, but Grantaire moans and her hands flutter around Enjolras's shoulders before settling, thumb rubbing at the hollow of Enjolras's collarbone.

"I don't usually put out on the first date," Grantaire murmurs, lips brushing against Enjolras's.

"Me neither, but there's a first time for everything. I don't usually sleep with the people who make my boards, either." Enjolras has little patience for talking, and with surprising strength she stands up, keeping Grantaire twined around her waist as she walks them both inside.

—

Enjolras's bed is one of the luxuries she's permitted herself. However, she never realised how empty it was before she was waking up next to Grantaire, the sun streaking across the other woman's back in a rosy wash of colour. Her hair was a foamy tangle across the pillows, and Enjolras hesitantly tucked a strand of it behind Grantaire's ear before leaning down and skimming a kiss along her cheekbone.

One blue eye cracked open, hazy, before a catlike smile eased itself onto Grantaire's lips.

"Hey there, Artemis," she said lazily. "Are you gonna do something, or are you just gonna stare at me all morning?" She reached an arm up above her head, the sheet slipping off her chest and exposing one freckled breast to the light. Enjolras's breath caught in her throat. Grantaire wasn't just an artist, she _was art_ and she was in Enjolras's bed.

"I don't know, _R_ ," Enjolras said sarcastically, "maybe you could show me what you want to do this morning, hm?"

In Enjolras's mind, last night was a blur of moving colours and shapes interspersed with moments of striking clarity - Grantaire lifting off Enjolras's top, the feeling of the artist's tongue tracing the contours of Enjolras's skin, the heady taste of Enjolras's come on Grantaire's tongue as they kissed in the afterglow.

"I might have a few things in mind," Grantaire acquiesced, leaning up on her elbows and peeling the sheet away from Enjolras's torso. She knew she had smaller breasts than normal, but it meant she didn't have to wear bras and she was definitely all right with that. Grantaire seemed to be all right with them as well, from the way she fitted one into her mouth at a time, laving them with her tongue and nipping gently with her teeth to bring Enjolras's nipples to hardened points.

"I love your tits, Artemis, _fuck_. I could lie here all day, my mouth just-" she moved to the other breast, "-just on them, _god_."

Enjolras threw an arm over her eyes, sparks of pleasure travelling from her nipples straight to her core. "Fuck, R," she managed, and Grantaire grinned wickedly as she moved down Enjolras's body.

"You're not gonna be able to walk, let alone surf, after I'm done with you." Enjolras moaned. "I'm - _fine_ , please just. Do something," she whined, and then gasped as Grantaire sealed her mouth around her clit. " _Fuck_ ," she breathed out, and she could feel Grantaire's laugh around her. 

"Wait - wait though. I owe you," Enjolras said, words slurring together with pleasure. Grantaire lifted her head up. "I'll get you off quick, then you can have your go. Now hush, let me take you apart."

Enjolras dropped her head back against the pillows and let Grantaire get back to business.

—

The next week was an impatient one for Enjolras. Grantaire had given her board high priority, and Enjolras was trying to keep herself from going to the shop at every break she had from her job at the coffee shop.

Today the waves were the right size and shape for her to take out her fish, and so Enjolras made her way down to the beach in the midmorning, wetsuit unzipped at her neck as she walked across the sand.

Enjolras had been surfing for almost as long as she could remember. Her parents had wanted her to take ballet, but she ran away after the first class to go to surfing lessons with Courfeyrac, and by the time her parents had figured it out, she was in too deep and was too stubborn to ever quit. Now she was 24 and living in a small seaside town in California within blocks of her best friends, and she couldn't have been happier anywhere else. With her degree in Political Science from UCLA, she could have gone anywhere, but this was where her heart was.

After surfing for a few hours, the sun growing hotter as the day grew older, Enjolras rode in to shore on a wave and pulled herself out of the surf, startling when she saw Grantaire and Jehan in the sand. Enjolras pulled off her wetsuit, the bikini she wore underneath almost getting caught in the wet Neoprene.

"Hey, Enjolras!" Jehan smiled, toying with a shell and a length of hemp. "I'm making you a necklace. Everyone has one. I feel like they're really _The Little Mermaid_ or something, and they're locally sourced. Not that shit from Taiwan or wherever that they pay kids five cents an hour to make."

Enjolras smiled at Jehan as she sat down on the corner of their towel, digging her feet into the cooler sand a few inches below the surface. "Thanks, Jehan," she said. "So, what brings you two out here?"

Grantaire's hand idly toyed with the tie on Enjolras's swimsuit. "Oh, nothing," she said airily, "just the fact that I've got a board in the shop with the resin drying. Can't do anything more with it."

She barely had a chance to finish her sentence before Enjolras threw herself on Grantaire in an uncharacteristic display of excitement. "Really? _Seriously_?"

Grantaire nodded. "Just ask Jehan. And your friends Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who have stopped in a couple of times to make sure you weren't there."

"They're so lovely," Jehan said, running her fingers through the mop on top of her head. "And cute, you didn't tell me Ferre had a girlfriend! She doesn't seem the type!"

Enjolras nodded distractedly. "But Jehan, _is the board done_?"

Jehan laughed. "Not quite. I mean, it still has to cure! But the paint job R's done is _lovely._ Red, w-"

Grantaire shoved a hand over Jehan's mouth. "It's a _surprise_ , Jehan, _please_."

Enjolras leant down and kissed Grantaire. "You made me a _board_ ," she said. "I think I might marry you. I'm serious."

It was Grantaire's turn to blush. "Wait till you ride it, yeah? Then we'll talk." Jehan just smirked over her necklace as Enjolras beamed at Grantaire in the summer sunlight.

—

_Present Day_

_—_

The air is still cool from the storm as Enjolras and Grantaire ride the waves together. Where Enjolras is controlled and technical, Grantaire seems to ride with wild and reckless abandon, more self-taught than anything else. Enjolras's golden hair is matted down with the water, and the golden flecks embedded in the resin of her board are glinting in the sunlight, even through the layer of wax on top of the board.

The two surfers call out to each other, and then to the knot of their friends on the beach, some who have boards of their own.

They keep on in this vein for an hour or so before riding the waves all the way into the shore, then stepping out of the water and onto the sand, cool against their feet.

Enjolras gathers Grantaire up into a kiss, and Grantaire narrowly avoids dropping her board on Enjolras's toes in her enthusiasm. Their friends are cat-calling and whistling, and other surfers are smiling at them on their way out to the surf.

This is it for them - Enjolras and Grantaire. The beach, the sand, their boards, their friends, the smell of a driftwood campfire on a summer night - this is all they need in the recipe for the perfect life.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me [here](http://grantairricade.tumblr.com) on tumblr. please feel free to leave a comment!


End file.
